Plan on Forever
by Bohemian Chicas
Summary: Two best friends are ripped apart in a whirlwind of confusion and anger. But when fate brings them together 10 years later in Montmartre, what happens when they don't know it's each other? Chapter 7 up R&R (you know the drill)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Two best friends are ripped apart in a whirlwind of confusion and anger. But when fate brings them together 10 years later in Montmartre, what happens when they don't know it's each other?  
  
Hey guys, Jessica and Anna here. This is the first story we're writing together, and let me tell you it is HARD WORK!! Okay, so, work with us, and please let us know how we're doing. We're workin our butts off writing this, and all we ask of you are some reviews. Pretty please? That would be totally awesome!!! THANK YOU and we hope you like the story!!! Oh, and we WILL upload MANY MANY more chapters to come . . . If you review. It's up to you guys! ~RougeChic and DiamondDog, Anna and Jessica  
  
PS~ if you're not reviewing this fic, please review Rosy Morning. That's my (Anna's) first posted fic, if you've ever read it. If not, please do! heehee. It's stupid fluff, if you like that stuff. THANK YOU!! But I hope you're reading this one too. Yeeeah . . . anyways . . . you got the point, right? It's PLEASE R&R!!! byebye now =)  
  
London, England 1889  
  
Soft light poured in through the glass window pane, waking 12-year-old Christian up from a deep slumber. He smiled, knowing it was the weekend, and he was free to play with his best friend. Now, normally, a young adolescent's best buddy would be of the same sex. But not for this young man. He was constantly with Satine, a tomboy of a redhead, with spunk and enthusiasm along with even a subtle beauty. The girl was gawky in her slimness; a jumble of long legs and arms. Even so, her vibrant red hair, often brushed by soft hands out of startlingly blue eyes, convinced many a person to believe she would one day be beautiful.  
Christian was also slightly gawky, but had the same potential to be quite handsome. His gray eyes were full of curiosity and mirth, while his dark hair flopped hopelessly over them. He was full of warmth, kindness, and spirit. While Satine basked in the limelight, Christian preferred to hang back, often daydreaming and writing. The two of them were opposites: moon and sun, night and day, dark and light.  
  
There was never a more perfect couple.  
  
Now don't get me wrong, because they weren't in love. Oh no, they were much too young to realize how perfect they were for each other, how much they were meant to be together. But they were as close as pals could be, and spent almost every waking moment in the other's presence. Today was no exception.  
  
In another house only a mere few blocks away, young Satine's eyelashes fluttered as she stirred from sleep. Slowly she stretched her hands toward the ceiling, bringing them back down only to rub her tired eyes which quickly flitted open. Christian and Satine both unknowingly sighed simultaneously, happy to be free from school, if only for two days. Not being the type to worry much of her appearance, Satine quickly splashed cool water on her face, and threw on her underclothes and only a few of the petticoats she was usually forced to wear. Because there were no strict, stuffy old ladies around to make her wear her corset, she left the horrid thing lying carelessly on the floor where she had flung it the previous night. The only way she and Christian saw them as were barriers against playing and running around. And Satine did not like to be told what to do. Tying up the last of her mud-stained dress, she swept her hair out of her face with a brush, tossed it onto her bed, and ran down the rickety old steps. There was never a moment to be wasted on Saturdays.  
  
Christian rolled out of his bed onto the floor where he sat and looked around, still wearing off the sleep from his eyes. They quickly fell upon his beloved journal and fountain pen, resting peacefully on the night table. Buttoning up a partially-starched shirt he grabbed from atop his dresser and rolling up the worn sleeves, he made his way to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cool water. He frowned in the mirror at his hair, which was a matted mess of dark strands. He worked at it furiously with his hands, trying desperately to get the unruly mess to stay straight. But it just flopped hopelessly into his eyes and over his forehead like every other morning. He sighed, and sleepily moved to put on his trousers. Lightening up considerably at the sunny day that was beginning to unfold outside his window in London, he grabbed for his journal and pen and bounded down the stairs, clutching his prized possessions lovingly. Today, he decided, would be another day at the creek.  
  
Sure enough, as Satine arrived at the creek, Christian was sitting there, a far-off look on his face as he gazed into the water, pen unmoving. Satine snickered almost lovingly at the dreamy, naïve expression he had. She tiptoed with almost catlike ease over to the unsuspecting boy, suddenly grabbing at his face from behind and covering his eyes. His pen and journal jerked out of his hands, which immediately went up the intruding grasp on his face. After the initial shock, he smiled at the giggles escaping the girl's mouth. He knew all too well who it was.  
  
"Tiiiiine . . ." he whined, trying desperately to pry the hands off of his face. She laughed, and finally gave in.  
  
"Whatsup, Christy?" she said, cheerful as ever. She cart wheeled away and back again to his amusement, smiling the whole time.  
  
"Nothin'," he said, frowning at her girly nickname for him. "You seem happy today."  
  
"What, and you're not?" she said, laughing and wrapping her arms around him in a friendly hug. He hugged her back, laughing into her hair.  
  
"I'm perfectly happy, thank you very much."  
  
"Well don't just stand there! Come on, let's go to the creek!" With that, she bounded off towards the cool rushing water. Christian wasn't so eager.  
  
"Satine, I dunno . . . I'm not that much of a swimmer . . ."  
  
"Oh, you scaredy-cat, it's just wading! What're you, afraid?" she smirked smugly, flipping her hair back and hiking up her skirts. She squealed as the cold water hit her ankles and feet.  
  
"Oooh . . . it feels so niiice . . . Come on, Christy! Christian pleeease?" she wheedled.  
  
"Fine." He retorted, running off after her and leaving his beloved journal and pen on the soft moss. It was getting hot, and he wasn't about to let Satine hog all that nice, cool, refreshing water.  
  
It was yet another Saturday in the life of Christian and Satine. And all was going well. As well as can be expected, of course, with two high- spirited troublemakers working their schemes as best friends. But neither knew of the events in the near future which would change their lives forever. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was a piping hot morning the next day, but nothing would stop Christian from walking the distance to his best friend's house. He flipped his thick, messy hair out of his face (to no avail, of course), and walked up the stone steps to Satine's doorway. As he knocked on the wooden door, he was greeted by Satine's grumpy, ill-tempered father--similar to his own.   
  
  
  
" Whatcha want kid? " Satine's father grumbled.  
  
  
  
" Well...er...um...you see sir... " Christian stopped his rambling abruptly when he saw Satine. He sighed quietly out of suppressed relief as she pushed her father out of the way, and shut the door- in his face. She grabbed Christian's hand, running down the road and away from her home. Finally, she spoke.  
  
" Come on, we'll go do something. " But her hoarse, cracking voice was cut off by Christian's hands on her shoulders. He stopped her and looked at her fully for the first time. He was shocked that what he had seen in the doorway was much worse than he had thought. Not only did she look miserable with her torn up petticoats, her hair framing her pale, waxen face in knotted strands. oh no, that was not all. Her frail body was covered with dark bruises and cuts, littering her normally glowing white skin with scars and marks. He gasped and choked out,  
  
" S-Satine. w-what happened? Huh? Satine? " His questioning became quieter and gentler as she began to shake and cry. Christian pulled her into his arms as she wept softly, tightening her firm hold around his neck.  
  
" Oh, C-Christian. Christian it was horrible, I-I.. "  
  
" Yes? Satine, tell me what's wrong, what's the matter? "  
  
Christian was speechless for a few moments after. 'What's this all about?' he thought. Her eyes were blotchy and she looked as if she hadn't slept for days, even though he had seen her just yesterday. 'She was perfectly fine then.' his thoughts trailed off as she began panting and whimpering, and as he was shocked to discover, shaking uncontrollably.  
  
" Oh Christian, he was. he just. oh no, I can't I can't. I can't. " she began to cry again into his shirt.  
  
" Shh. it's okay, it's okay.. Tell me what's wrong, please Satine, you're my best friend, you can tell me. I'm here to help you shh, it's okay. . . it's okay. . . " Satine choked once more, gasping and looking up from his embrace.  
  
" Promise me, Christian," she said, as he looked back at her with eyes filled with confusion and concern. "Promise me . . . C-Christian, please . . . p-promise me, that whatever happens, we'll stay f-friends. Don't let this affect us, p-please . . . don't let this ch-change anyth-thing. Promise. m-me. th-that no matter what you'll be there for me, b-because I'll always b-be there for y-you. " she trailed off again.  
  
" Oh, Satine, you know I'll always be there no matter what. Just please tell me what happened. I want. I need to know! " He took a deep breath, trying to calm his crazed nerves.  
  
" I.. oh, Christian, I.." Satine broke off, looking up abruptly at Christian. "Oh god. oh god. no, I can't, I can't, oh no, I can't. "  
  
" What, no, Satine, tell me, tell me! " Satine began to shake, and then with a sharp choking gasp, she broke away from Christian's arms.  
  
" No.. I. no. " she looked up at him with wild, wide eyes, brimming with tears. " Oh my god, what have I done.. Oh no, oh god no. "   
  
With that, the girl took off down the street, tears spilling from her eyes and stinging her cheeks. She left a very confused, dazed, and above all terrified Christian standing alone, wondering what in the name of god just happened.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Satine ran back to her house, and tried to slip in the door silently. But the rough, callused hand that grabbed at her wrist told her she had done otherwise. A sob escaped her dry, cracked lips.  
  
"NO! " she wailed, writhing against her father's vice-like grip. But he would not let go.  
  
" You little bitch, " he fumed, wild eyes glazed over with a drunken glare. " I'll kill you, you little whore, I'LL KILL YOU! "  
  
" What are you DOING?! " screamed Satine, attempting to fight off her father. " What did I DO?!?!? FATHER NO!! NO!! " she screamed desperately, but this time, there was no knock at the door to save her. Once again, Satine was yelled, cursed, and screamed at until she fainted, with more bruises to wake up to after she came over her unconsciousness. Her father had once again slapped, hit and kicked her until she could feel no more.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Christian trudged slowly home, pondering over what possibly could have happened. He decided not to go back to her house, thinking of how much it upset her last time. He could only imagine that it made things worse, whatever happened. But what happened? What? Only one troubling question echoed relentlessly in his head, rising above the other troubled thoughts over and over again:  
  
" Was it me? "  
  
He reached home after many hazy moments of slow, thoughtful walking, where he ran up to his room and flopped onto his bed, suddenly feeling feverish and a little sick. He slept a fitful sleep for the rest of the afternoon.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Later that evening, Christian woke up to a warm smell coming from his kitchen. He jerked up, realizing how hungry he truly was, and hobbled slowly down the steps. But he stopped abruptly when he remembered the flustered state Satine left him in. "Oh god, what happened to her?" With one last longing sniff of the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen, he yelled "I'm goin' out, Mother, be right back!" and ran out the door. He had to know what happened.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Satine moaned as she rolled over onto her back, and winced at the sharp pain in her side. She groaned, attempting to sit up. But strong arms held her down. She yelped in fear.  
  
" No, no please no. " she started to sob.   
  
" SILENCE! " her father screamed. Her sobs were reduced to whimpers. " Now, " said her father, palpably not in his right mind, " we will be moving away to Switzerland where we will find new employment. "  
  
" But- "  
  
" SHH! I said SILENCE! " her father yelled, pressing her shoulders down roughly. " Now, you will be working in a whorehouse somewhere. " he trailed off, his eyes rolling back into his head, as he fell over in a dead faint. Satine began to whimper again. Shakily, she slipped off out of her father's grasp and reached over the drawer where he kept his gun.   
  
" I'm sorry, Father, " she choked out, cocking the gun and pointing it to his head.   
  
A single shot rang out into the night.  
  
Right at that moment, frantic knocks were sounded at the door. It was Christian. Muffled sounds could be heard from behind the big, wooden door. "Satine, Satine, let me in, please, let me in!" she could hear him yelling.  
  
Satine was terrified.  
  
What had she done?  
  
Frantically, she hid the gun in the drawer, locked it, and looked out the window.   
  
SATINE! " he yelled, looking up at the window. " Satine, what's going on? Please, please Satine. " he began to cry a little.  
  
Satine was still horrified at what had happened. Her father had started the abuse a few weeks ago, and had not stopped. He used to just ignore her, but he began to vent his frustration on the poor girl. The last few days were horrible, and she could not ignore it or pretend it didn't happen. Still, he was her father, and she had killed him.  
  
Satine was horrified beyond words.  
  
She was guilty, ashamed, angry, scared, confused, depressed, helpless, and alone. Well, she would have been alone if it hadn't been for Christian standing just below her. 'No' she thought, with a shiver rolling down her spine. 'He mustn't know. He must never know.' The girl was too humiliated and ashamed to reveal what had happened to anyone. What she had done, and what her father had done, she decided, would be her secret. No one must know. Her final decision was made that fateful night.  
  
She began sobbing again, and out of fear for herself and her best friend, she moaned, " Get away, Christian. Just get away. "  
  
" What? " Christian said, not thinking he had heard correctly.  
  
" GET AWAY! " she screamed out the window. " Just GET AWAY from here!! " With that, she slammed the window, hurtled down the steps, and ran out the back door, disappearing into the night.  
  
Satine was never seen again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! Thanks a bunch for the luvly reviews. they make us feel so loved!! Anyways, we're still checking back EVERYDAY for reviews, and we are serious about not uploading unless we get more! This will most likely be the last chapter for a while, cuz we'll be leaving for sleepaway camp this week . . . *sniffle* . . . sorry to those who we're leaving in suspense!! Expect MUCH more when we get back, in about a month. This is goin 2 be a long fic. We'll be posting in August, we promise!! Please. we're begging u on hands and knees . . . READ and REVIEW!! Thank you so much to Diamond Absinthe, Nugristiel08LG, and sweetiepie22 . . . we love you guys so much!! Here's chapter 3 . . . enjoy . . .  
  
OOH!! And it's Anna's (RougeChic) birthday today! (6/20) Woohoo! Yes, lucky me, I share a bday w/ Nicole Kidman who happens to be my idol. AND for my bat mitzvah (Anna) . . . I got Ewan's autograph! No joke. I won't give u the details, but he really did it! I'll just say that I have connections . . . to his agent in London . . .lol. I brag so much. I'll shut up. . . .I promise. Just read. Please. Thank you!  
  
Montmartre, Paris, France, 1899  
  
Breaking her gaze from the chipped walls of the garret, Satine smiled almost lovingly at her dear artist friend, swiping furiously at a worn easel. Toulouse's vivid colors beautifully portrayed the Bohemian lifestyle Satine had quickly accustomed to. The once gawky redhead had grown to be a gorgeous young lady. Her skinny proportions gave way to a slim, beautiful figure as she matured, catching the lusty eye of many a man. An accomplished actress and singer, she enjoyed the life of a starving artist with the help of Toulouse.  
  
But life hadn't always been so easy.  
  
Satine closed her eyes against the pain of remembrance. She couldn't remember much-it was almost all lost from her mind. All that remained was pain, cold, darkness, and a dream flying away . . .  
  
*~*Montmartre, Paris, France, 1889*~*  
  
*~*"What is this place . . ."*~*  
  
*~*"Witwwe giwl? Awe . . .awe you okay?"*~*  
  
*~*"Y-yes . . .I . . .I think so, sir, thank you-"*~*  
  
*~*"Oh my! You'we shivewing! Come now, we'll get you wawm . . .you got a pwace to wive?"*~*  
  
*~*"N-no s-sir, I'm not from here-"*~*  
  
*~*"Oh, you poow deaw! Come, come now . . .my gawwet is just down the stweet hewe . . ."*~*  
  
Satine shook herself out of her daze. Toulouse had taken her in so many hears ago as a young girl. A young, helpless girl with no where to go, and he had given her more than he could afford to give. With a final wistful sigh, she stretched her legs to the floor, ready for a new day.  
  
London, England, 1889  
  
'Beautiful,' Christian typed, as he tried his best to think of the woman he might fall for someday. These thoughts, he knew, he must write down before they escaped his head. 'Silky soft skin, blue eyes--sparkling blue eyes, filled with curiosity and passion, but above all things, of course, love-- eyes so powerful, that you could gaze into their depths for hours--not looking away for even a second; red, luscious lips, so kissable . . .; long locks of fiery red hair--'  
  
He stopped typing abruptly when, yet again, that ghost from the past ran through his head.  
  
He was typing about her.  
  
'God, why do I still think of her . . ." Christian mused, "I mean, what was so special about that girl anyway . . . I never loved her . . .I can't even remember who she was . . ."  
  
Christian was still buried in his thoughts when his father came stomping into his room, followed by his father's clone- Christian's brother. Their expressions were, as usual, stolid and stony, their eyes never holding the love they should have. His father's composure was lost, however, when he saw that Christian was writing.   
  
"Why do you waste your life like this, boy? You could be making use of yourself, working in the bank like your brother here."  
  
Christian rolled his eyes. Always being compared to his brother. Ever since his mother had died of consumption nine years ago, Christian was left behind even more than he had been from the start, and his father was never kind to him. Never a supportive word, especially in the area of writing. His father wanted him to be in the banking business, just like him and his perfect brother . . .perfectly boring brother . . .  
  
"Father, you know that writing is-"  
  
"WRITING is a bunch of CRAP! There are so many more important things in the world! You're turning into one of those . . . one of those . . . those . . . BOHEMIANS!" his father sputtered in rage.  
  
His brother snickered. "You're only writing about pointless things, brother. Poetry, love, all that stupid-"  
  
"LOVE IS NOT STUPID!" Christian blurted, shooting up from his chair in a rage.  
  
"Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is-"  
  
Christian was cut off by an almighty blow from his father, flinging him into the desk behind him. He raised a hand to rub his sore, stinging cheek, his normally gentle gray eyes shooting daggers at the two people he loathed most.  
  
Sturdying himself on the rickety old chair, he reached for his typewriter. Under the stunned, icy glower of his father and brother, his typewriter was enclosed in its case, soon joined by his beloved journal. Everything he had ever written was in there, and that was all he needed.   
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Christian James?" his father spat, letting the last two words escape gritted teeth with all the hatred the old man possessed.  
  
Matching his tone and then some, Christian retorted, "Goodbye Father, Brother."  
  
He slipped past his frozen so-called "family", he slipped out the door, escaping what had been his home for 22 years. His prison. His cage. He was finally leaving. He was off to live a penniless existence, to join the Bohemian Revolution, and to write about Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and that which he believed in above all things . . .  
  
. . .Love.   
  
Dun dun dun . . . lol . . . well, not really, since the story's getting MUCH happier now, thank god. We're having soo much fun writing this =) Like we said, this is the last chapter until August, and we better come home from camp to loads of reviews!! Heehee . . . thanx every1!! 


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone, we're back (FINALLY), if only with a short chapter. Anyways, it's short but important. you'll see. Hope you like it, and thanx so much to all of our reviewers!! We love you, and hope to hear more from you. otherwise we have no reason 2 write, except our own pitiful enjoyment.. *sniffle*. So, please read and review our lovely Chapter 4 (yay, it's finally done!!). Enjoy!!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Christian and Satine caused each other so much pain that fateful night she left. They swore they would forget- forget the loyalty, the friendship, the good times and bad. They thought that if they put their past behind them, numbness would override sense and keep them safe from remembrance. They tried, tried, and tried again, and it was only a matter of time before it was almost as if the other had never existed. It was official- Satine and Christian became figments of one another's imagination; meaningless blurs from the past. Nothing could bring back the memories, nothing except the occasional flashback that was hastily shrugged off as an insignificant daydream- a daydream of nothing at all. They had forgotten and would never remember . . . or so they thought.  
  
Maybe that explains the events that began to unfold . . .  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
They say a very strange enchanted boy arrived in Paris during the summer of love, with only his dreams to share with the world. And so Christian entered the village of sin, with what little possessions he had, but with a mind full of imagination and words, itching to be typed onto paper. With these words he would change a world . . . or the world to someone . . .  
  
Lost in thought, he wandered the streets, in awe of what he saw. He was naïve in an innocent way, inexperienced, but ready to drink in what Montmartre had in store for him. The excitement of it all overwhelmed him, but a dreamy, boyish smile was plastered onto his face. Maybe he could finally find what, or rather who he had been waiting for all his life, and fill that void in his heart that had been aching to be filled . . . Head in the clouds, he dreamed about love, not knowing it was about to hit him upside the head.  
  
No, really, it was about to hit him upside the head.  
  
BAM  
  
Christian walked straight into a young woman, colliding with her head on and sprawling to the ground.  
  
Both began hastily stuttering apologies- "Sorry, I'm so sorry- oh, gosh . . . sorry . . ." The woman knelt by the papers littering the ground around Christian's suitcases.  
  
"I'm so sorry, let me help," she said, reaching for several of them.  
  
"Oh, it's quite all right," he said, helping her to collect his  
belongings, his flushed face in the direction of the ground out of embarrassment. He stood, offering his hand to her.  
  
"Here."  
  
Keeping her head down, she gently grasped his outstretched hand. Looking up for the first time, they both gasped. Their eyes locked, as well as their hands.  
  
A wave of déjà vu swept over them, stealing them for a frozen, ethereal moment from reality. That face . . .  
  
And just as soon as they were taken, they were returned to the present, jerking their hands apart and clearing their throats uncomfortably. They looked away.  
  
"I'm-" they both began simultaneously. Cutting off, a flustered Christian stared at his feet. Satine let out a little giggle, startling him into looking up.  
  
"You were saying?" she laughed, a coquettish sparkle in her eye.  
  
"I'm- well- I'm not from here, and- uh . . . my name's- my . . . I'm Christian," he finished, smiling sheepishly at the woman before him- Her eyes were as blue as anything, shining with a million things to say, her glowing face framed by long locks of curly, fiery red hair, her pink lips curved into a bright smile that illuminated her entire face. The definition of true beauty. Wow, she was pretty. . .  
  
"I'm Satine," she said, with much more confidence. She couldn't help but stare- His thick, dark hair was adorably disheveled, flopping hopelessly into his face, his sparkling gray eyes tinged with blue and green, his lips upturned in a goofy, embarrassed grin. The definition of adorable innocence. Wow, he was handsome . . .  
  
"You seem to be a bit . . . lost. Would you like me to show you around?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful, thank you," he responded, the relief evident in his voice.  
  
"You got a place to stay?"  
  
"Uhh . . . umm . . .not, exactly. . ." Christian suddenly found the  
ground fascinating. Satine laughed.  
  
"It's okay- no need to worry. There's plenty of room where I'm  
staying, if you need it."  
  
"Oh- I . . . I . . ." Poor Christian was very red.  
  
"You wouldn't be sleeping with me, silly!" she exclaimed, an amused  
smile playing on her lips.  
  
"It's an old apartment. The floor below me is vacant, I believe.  
Nice, cheap little place," she explained.  
  
"Oh- um- okay. Thank you- thank you so much!" Christian looked up  
once more, still quite flustered, yet grinning.  
  
"Well, come on, then," she said, motioning for him to follow. With  
that, she led him off into the streets of Paris.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
RougeChic(Anna): Hope you liked VERY SHORT n sweet El Numero 4. Seez ya laterz!!  
  
DiamondDog(Jessica): Only if you review.  
  
RougeChic: Oh, yes, duh. No reviews=No chapters.  
  
Christian: Me too.  
  
DiamondDog: What?  
  
Satine: Me too.  
  
RougeChic: What?  
  
Christian and Satine: REVIEWS! NOW!  
  
DiamondDog: Ohhh. well, you heard 'em! We don't want our, er, Baz's characters mad . . . nope nope. And if you don't . . . we may just have to make more conflict . . . and insert a little Duke into the plot . . .  
  
RougeChic: NOOOOO!!!  
  
DiamondDog: Oh. Right. Miss Fluffy-Mushy-Romance here won't allow too much conflict.  
  
RougeChic: No siree bub.  
  
Duke: Okay then, buh-bye.  
  
RougeChic: Wouldn't it have been SO much easier if he was that obedient in the movie? *starts crying hysterically*  
  
DiamondDog: Okay, um . . . Review, please, before she has an emotional breakdown . . .please . . .  
  
P.S.- That was fun to write . . . lolz. If you want there to be a duke . . . or you got suggestions for ANYTHING at all . . .tell us! We're always open to ideas- it's up to you. Anna wants lotsa fluff . . .Jessica likes drama . . .So tell us what YOU want! 


	5. Chapter 5

We're back. Is that good or bad? We don't know. But it's time for the one, the only, drumroll please... CHAPTER 5!! Yay!! Read and review. 'Nuff said.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
As Satine lead Christian back towards the place she called home, Christian could not help but notice just how many people acknowledged Satine as they walked past.  
  
"Bonjour, Satine!"  
  
"Oh, bonjour, monsieur," she would always reply, smiling brightly, her eyes alight with pleasure and even a little embarrassment. Christian would just stand behind her, eyes averted to the ground, following her like a puppy dog.  
  
"Satine! You were wonderful last week," another exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, merci, I'm glad you liked it," she said, her lips curved into a small smile.  
  
"Um, Satine," Christian finally said, looking at her.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Well, there are- there are so many people, who- who know you . . ."  
  
"Oh," she laughed, "It's a small world, I guess." She continued walking, as if trying to shrug off the topic.  
  
"But, Satine-" he spoke again, this time touching her shoulder to stop her. The sensation of skin against skin was electric.  
  
She turned around, recovering from the shock of his warm touch. He hastily pulled his hand back to his side. "They keep on congratulating you for something or another."  
  
"Oh . . . well, I like to- to act. Actually, I love to act. And sing."  
  
"So you're famous."  
  
"Oh, heavens no, Christian . . ." she laughed. She felt her face begin to get warm. "I just- do it a lot. Around town. Different theaters and plays around Montmartre, you know? I guess you could say people know me for it, but it's really not fame."  
  
"You must be wonderful," he said, smiling adorably at her.  
  
"Oh," she said quietly, looking down at the ground, a beautiful shade of pink creeping up her cheeks. "Oh, not really . . . I- I don't even know why all these people recognize me out of those beautiful costumes and in these . . . these . . ."She trailed off, gesturing at her slightly dirtied dress.  
  
"You're beautiful, that's why," he said softly. She blushed. Staring at one another, they were both at a loss for words. They were leaning closer . . . closer . . .  
  
"We should go," they said simultaneously. Hastily composing themselves, faces red, they continued their journey in silence.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Well, here we are," Satine said, gesturing with a hand at the fading white building, emblazoned with a large sign that read "L'Amour"- love. "Home sweet home. Here, follow me," she said, beckoning to him.  
  
After getting his key from the landlady and paying her, he followed Satine silently up the staircase to his new home. She stopped suddenly at a door, and turned to him expectantly. He jiggled his key in the lock, and pushed back the door to reveal a dusty garret where he dropped his belongings.  
  
"Thank you so much, you have no idea how helpful this was," Christian said, smiling a little at her.  
  
"Oh, no problem." Satine shifted uncomfortably. "Um . . .would you like to come upstairs to where I'm staying? I could introduce you to Toulouse, my best friend."  
  
"Oh, yes, of course," he said, and followed her out of the room and farther up the rickety stairs. Opening the door to yet another garret, they stepped inside to be greeted by not one, but several people. The room was small, and what space there was had been littered with canvases, paints, and all kinds of things leading to the idea that an artist dwelled there. Green bottles also cluttered the floor, the glass swept to the corners where they were untidily stacked. Four men sat on various broken chairs and sofas, talking and bantering about nothing at all. It was truly a bohemian abode.  
  
"Oh, hello, Satine, back alweady?" asked one of them. "And . . . a fwiend?"  
  
"Oh, yes, everyone, this is Christian. Christian, well . . . meet the bohos." Everyone laughed.  
  
"Yes, Chwistian, welcome to Montmartre. My name is Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse Lautrec Montfa." Christian looked slightly overwhelmed. The man laughed.  
  
"Call me Toulouse. This is Satie," he said, gesturing toward a bald man with glasses.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"And the Doctor."  
  
"Hi," said a man with long, graying hair.  
  
"And the Argentinean."  
  
"Welcome," said a man with dark hair and a gruff, deep voice.  
  
"Oh," Satine whispered, almost inaudibly to Christian, "he's narcoleptic, so . . .don't be surprised if he - you know, faints on random occasions." Christian smiled, and laughed softly.  
  
"Okay," he whispered back.  
  
"So, Chwistian, what bwings you to Pawis?" Toulouse asked.  
  
"Well, I'm from London, and, um . . .I've always dreamed of being a part of the Bohemian Revolution." They all smiled at him.  
  
"Spectacluaw!," Toulouse exclaimed, grinning widely, "Anything special you do?"  
  
"Oh, well, uh," Christian said, fiddling with his shirtsleeve nervously, "I came to write-stories, songs, poetry-"  
  
"What do write about?" Satine interrupted.  
  
"Oh, lots," Christian exclaimed, his gray eyes shining, "Truth, beauty, freedom-"  
  
"Love?" Satine asked eagerly, her deep blue eyes sparkling with alacrity and curiosity, "Do you write about love?"  
  
"Oh yes," Christian breathed, "Love? Love . . .above all things I believe in love. love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"  
  
They stared at him in wonder, exchanging furtive glances. 'Was it something I said?' he thought. He blushed, clearing his throat uncomfortably.  
  
"Sorry," Satine said quietly. "That was beautiful. Christian, you would like writing as a career, correct?"  
  
"Of course!" he exclaimed. What was going on?  
  
Satine sat down, motioning for him to join her. "Might as well explain it. You see Christian, I'm an actress, right?"  
  
"Yes . . ." said Christian. Toulouse laughed.  
  
"I'm suwe Satine said she wasn't that good."  
  
"Toulouse!" exclaimed Satine, glancing at him with an embarrassed look on her face.  
  
"She's amazing. Satine is the best actwess awound, and she'll nevew admit it. Too modest." Satine glared at him.  
  
"I thought so," said Christian, grinning at her.  
  
"Well," continued Satine, pretending as if nothing had been said, "I'm always out and about, while my real friends are here," she said, waving her hand about the room.  
  
"We've always wanted to take part in a show, together," said Satie.  
  
"An original one- not an audition for something someone else wrote. Something of our own that we didn't pay to get," said the Argentinean.  
  
"I've always dreamed of becoming a famous actress. Not just Montmartre, but in Paris," Satine said dreamily, twisting a fiery lock of hair around her finger.  
  
"We don't have enough money for our own theater, costumes, props, instruments, and whatever else we need for a good show," she continued, "so we gathered what little money we have, and put out an advertisement for a financier."  
  
"We got a reply," said the Doctor eagerly, "just last week, from a very wealthy duke. Apparently he had recognized Satine from one of her shows around here."  
  
"It was fantastic news to all of us," said Toulouse. "He actually only sent the lettew saying that he would do it about a week ago, and we want to stawt as soon as possible! But the only pwoblem is-"  
  
"We need a show, and a writer," interrupted Satine.  
  
"Will you do it?!?" they all asked at the same time, looking at him anxiously.  
  
Christian was thrilled. So much was happening in so little time! Just a few hours ago, he was Christian from London, a good-for-nothing poet with a "ridiculous obsession with love." Now, he was being asked to write the script for a play, in Paris of all places! Of course he would take the job!  
  
"Oh- oh, yes, I would love to!" Christian said, overjoyed.  
  
"Wonderful!" the Argentinean exclaimed.  
  
"This is gweat news-oh, thewe's so much to be done, we shall have a celebwation tonight!" Toulouse cried excitedly, getting up from his seat.  
  
As Satie, Toulouse, the Argentinean, and the Doctor were making their way to the door, Toulouse said quietly to Christian, "Chwistian, Satine's a wondewful actwess and judge. Show hew what you got- we'll take cawe of the ewwands."  
  
He nodded, and they left. Christian and Satine were alone in the garret.  
  
Satine moved over to the couch where Christian sat, and paused to see if he would object. When he patted the space beside him, she sat down eagerly.  
  
"You have no idea how much this means to me, Christian, thank you so much," she said, throwing her arms around him in a hug.  
  
They almost forgot to let go, it felt so good.  
  
When they finally did separate, they were both grinning sheepishly. "Uh . . .Toulouse told me to, um, show you some of my- writing" Christian said nervously. He didn't usually like to share what he wrote. Oh, but she was so different, so beautiful, so . . .  
  
"Oh, well, go ahead!" Satine replied, edging away to give him space and smiling.  
  
"Okay, um . . ." He swallowed.  
  
"What are you going to do- I'm sure whatever it is, it's wonderful- a song, something you've already written, recite something for me-"  
  
But before she could even finish, Christian had let the words that had filled his head ever since he laid eyes on her escape his mouth in a beautiful melody.  
  
~My gift is my song . . .~  
  
Satine's eyes were wide. His voice was like nothing she'd ever heard.  
  
~And this one's for you~  
  
~And you can tell everybody~  
  
~That this is your song~  
  
A song? For her?  
  
~It may be quite simple but~  
  
~Now that it's done~  
  
~Hope you don't mind~  
  
~I hope you don't mind~  
  
~That I put down in words~  
  
~How wonderful life is now you're in the world~  
  
Satine inhaled sharply. Did he . . . was he . . . was he saying . . .  
  
~Sat on the roof~  
  
~And I kicked off the moss~  
  
~Well some of these verses well they~  
  
~They got me quite cross~  
  
~But the sun's been kind~  
  
~While I wrote this song~  
  
~It's for people like you that~  
  
~Keep it turned on~  
  
Christian stood, taking her hands in his.  
  
~So excuse me for forgetting~  
  
~But these things I do~  
  
~You see I've forgotten~  
  
~If they're green or they're blue~  
  
Satine smiled at him, then looked down at their entwined hands, embarrassed. Her stomach was being twisted in knots. . . so how did it feel so good?  
  
~Anyway the thing is, what I really mean~  
  
~Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen~  
  
Christian began to dance with her around the room, twirling about and weaving a web of magic around them as they were lifted higher, higher, higher, into the starlit sky . . .  
  
~And you can tell everybody~  
  
~This is your song~  
  
~It may be quite simple~  
  
~But now that it's done~  
  
They were on a floor of feathery clouds, the world around them melting as they danced. It was only them.  
  
~I hope you don't mind~  
  
~I hope you don't mind ~  
  
~That I put down in words~  
  
~How wonderful life is now you're in the world~  
  
~I hope you don't mind~  
  
~I hope you don't mind~  
  
~That I put down in words~  
  
~How wonderful life is now you're in the world~  
  
And as soon as the last note left his lips, Christian swooped Satine up in his arms and twirled her around until he felt his feet, once again, on earth, where he tenderly placed her feet. He still held her, and as she wrapped her arms about his neck, her eyes full of wonder, his face glowed with happiness.  
  
They were silent, relishing in the afterglow of their dance among the stars. He looked at her expectantly, his eyes wide, as if to say, "Well?"  
  
"Oh . . . Oh, wow, Christian . . . that was . . . that was beautiful . . .was that for . . . for . . ."  
  
"You?" Christian said. "Of course." He suddenly became self- conscious, letting go of her and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I- I mean, it was, um . . . it wasn't that good, was it, I mean, I can do better, for the show, I mean, you know, I'll - I'll get better songs . . . and- and I'll work much harder, I promise . . ."  
  
"No! Oh, no Christian, that was . . .perfect," she sighed.  
  
"Oh, um, thank you, er, you're welcome, er . . .uh . . . I should go." He started towards the door.  
  
"Oh," said Satine, disappointed. "Oh, of course, well, I'll- I'll see you later, then."  
  
"Okay, um . . . bye, then."  
  
"Bye."  
  
With that, Christian left Satine alone in the garret, with confused thoughts whirring dangerously fast through both their minds. One question seemed to rise above all.  
  
What was happening to them?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
OOH!! Dun dun dun . . .Well, not really, since it's MAJOR FLUFF time, lolz. or, maybe not. maybe she hates him.. Will Satine love Christian? Does Christian really love her in the first place? What's happening to them? You'll just have to review to find out!!  
  
Oh, and how much does it SUCK that my name doesn't get to be Satine in French class because my mom said I was too obsessed, and she would call my teacher if I chose that??? How much? Well, I'll tell you how much . . .  
  
DiamondDog: Yo, Anna, party at Toulouse's.  
  
RougeChic: Oh, hey Jessica, I was workin' on the post note. Talkin' on and on and on about stuff people honestly don't care about, you know? OOOH YEAH! Celebration party, right?  
  
DiamondDog: In honor of their new writer, Christian darlin'.  
  
RougeChic: Sweet! All reviewers get a personal invitation.  
  
Bohos: REVIEW!! Then come drink Absinthe. Absinthe good.  
  
DiamondDog: Don't want any drunk reviewers though. Easy on the alcohol, kay ya'll?  
  
RougeChic: Seez ya laterz!!! Rock on, fellow fanfic writers and reviewers. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, all. So happy to get all the reviews, they just MAKE OUR DAY *sniffle*. No, really, it's honestly all we talk about. You know, like "OH YEAH! Did you see so-and-so's review? We're so loved!" Thank you so so so so so much. You have no idea how much taking a few seconds to type a lil' note to some penniless writers means to us. Keep them coming! *wink wink*.  
Okay, so, hopefully you've read a little, laughed a little, cried a little, reviewed a little, and hoped and wished and dreamed and crossed your itty-bitty fingers that Chapter 6 of Plan on Forever by RougeChic and Diamond Dog would finally be posted. Yeah right. So, here it is, what you've all been waiting for. . . .CHAPTER SIX!  
  
Crickets: Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.  
  
Awww, come on! Show a little love!  
  
No? Ah, well. Here goes.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next morning, Satine woke slowly from a deep sleep, a giddy smile curving her lips. She sat up, sighing wistfully- her dream had ended too quickly.  
  
There had been a poet in her dream, a poet with the sunshine pouring gently out of his stormy eyes, boyishly handsome and naïve. He sang to her, the sweet melody flowing out of his mouth straight from his heart that he was so willingly giving to her . . . and she was in love. . .oh, if only it were true. Suddenly, Satine jerked fully awake. Christian! The writer . . .for the show . . .it was all coming back to her now. . .  
  
Including the part where he had left her all alone.  
  
Satine had not gone to the party at Toulouse's that night, choosing instead to walk through Montmartre, lonely with her thoughts. The brisk night air mingled with the sweet yet bitter smells of the city, gentle and corrosive. Not-so far off lights glowed neon through the darkness- the Moulin Rouge.  
  
The night had calmed her frazzled mind, and she took the opportunity to think. Christian had said he came from London, a place of her past that she had chosen to forget, and had successfully done so. But there was something about him that seemed so familiar, and yet she couldn't put a finger on it. And now that he had sung his sweet song to her, she was beginning to feel . . . funny . . . giddy . . . light. . . like nothing could harm her. . .  
  
No! She could not fall in love with him. He did not love her. And besides, what of the consequences? There would have to be consequences . . .  
  
She had returned home in the late hours of the night, falling into her welcoming bed without a word to Toulouse or the others. There had been just too much on her mind.  
  
Satine got up from her bed, stretching her arms to the cracked, yellowing ceiling. They were to go to the theater to meet the Duke that day, and no thoughts should be plaguing her. She needed to concentrate. No, she would not let this writer get in the way. Without another thought on the subject, she moved to get dressed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Christian woke slowly that morning, still stuck in a wonderful dream and wanting to stay there . . . with her. . . the beautiful redhead with a velvet voice . . . creamy skin . . . soft, sparkling eyes . . . and he was feeling so- happy . . .  
  
But the light of day was pouring in his window fast, and he slipped reluctantly from the fading dreamland . . . and the woman he loved . . .  
  
He sat up.  
  
Love?  
  
Sighing, he thought back to the previous night, where he had left Satine all alone. After the song he could not control left his lips, he had felt so connected to the woman in front of him that it scared him. Scared him so much that he left and cooped himself up in his garret all night, staring blankly at his idle typewriter while he sat, stuck in the moment. Christian had not gone to Toulouse's to celebrate.  
  
Her eyes had lit up briefly when he had said "London". . . what could that have meant? And she was so perfect, and so beautiful . . . but what scared him the most was not deja-vu. It was that funny feeling making his heart seem fit to burst . . .  
  
Christian was in love, and somewhere deep inside him he had known it all along, and he was always one to trust his intuition. But this was no silly infatuation- this was deep. And it scared him into making the worst decision of his life: He had left Satine dazed, confused, and alone, and blown his only shot. He was just so terrified that she didn't feel the same way. But all the same, he had ruined it, and now there was nothing he could do . . .  
  
Wait.  
  
Christian smiled. Of course there was something he could do! They were to meet the Duke that day, and he would see her again. That was it! He would tell her.  
  
Tonight.  
  
"My gift is my song . . ." he sang quietly, a goofy grin on his face as he stretched his feet to the floor to begin getting dressed. . .  
  
So why was he so nervous?  
  
"And this one's for you . . ."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Christian, Satine, Toulouse, Satie, the Doctor, and the Argentinean stood staring up at the looming building.  
  
"This is it?" asked Satine  
  
"This ith it," confirmed Toulouse. They all looked slightly overwhelmed by the richness of the place. Not only the building, but of all of the city surrounding them. Never having been exposed to such grandeur and propriety, the bohemians in their worn clothes looked almost incongruous with luxurious Paris.  
  
"Well, let's get a move on, then," said the Argentinean, smiling halfheartedly and taking the lead into the theater.  
  
Making their way in through the immense doors, they had barely gotten inside before they were accosted by a large man. Bald and brawny, he stood menacingly over them, face impassive.  
  
"My deaw siw!" cried Toulouse, hobbling forward. "It's a pweasure to meet you at last! You must be the Duke."  
  
The man remained silent.  
  
"Uh . . . uh, yes, I am Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse Lautrec Montfa, and this is Satie, and-"  
  
"No need for introductions, I know perfectly well that you are all bohemians not worthy of being known by name," a nasal voice said from somewhere unknown. "This is my manservant, Warner." All of a sudden, a mousy man appeared, his greasy hair dangling off to the sides of his pallid face. He gave the impression that he hadn't seen sunlight in a long, long time.  
  
"Ah, except for you, mademoiselle. You must be Satine." He clenched his teeth into a crooked, yellowing smile. It was really quite repulsive.  
  
"Yes, monsieur, it's- it's a pleasure to meet you at last," she said, plastering on a fake smile. She daintily reached out a hand to shake his, and was immediately nauseated when he took the opportunity to kiss it repeatedly. Clearing her throat softly, she glanced to the others for help. Christian jumped on it.  
  
"Um, sir, I - I am going to . . . to be the writer of- of this show . . ." Christian said shakily. The Duke looked up abruptly, dropping Satine's hand. He wrinkled his nose at the boy, not noticing how Satine turned away to furiously wipe her hand on her skirts.  
  
"The writer, huh? All I can say is that this better not be some typical bohemian show unworthy of mine or Mademoiselle Satine's time." Christian blushed, looking down at his feet.  
  
"Oh, no, monsieur," said Satine, hiding her anger. How dare he insult Christian like that? "Christian is a wonderful writer, and very talented, I must say." Christian's face grew even more red.  
  
"Yes, yes, of course, whatever you wish. Now, while the rest of you do . . . whatever it is you bohemians do, Satine, I would like to speak with you privately." He offered his arm to her, and she reluctantly took it. 'Thank heavens he's just the financier,' she thought, glancing at his smirking face.  
  
The others took a seat in the empty theater, talking and passing the time until Satine would return. Christian, however, was uneasy. He had seen the way the Duke had let his eyes wander hungrily over Satine's body, focusing on her slim waist and beautiful curves like they were possessions. Now, Christian was not experienced in the ways of lust and love, but what he did know was that no one, especially someone as wonderful as Satine, deserved to be treated like a possession. The Duke was a suspicious person, all right, and he would just have to keep an eye on him.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
As Satine sat down in a random chair set up backstage, she could tell there was something shifty about the Duke-she didn't know if it was because of the way he treated her friends, or the strange look on his unsightly face, but there was definitely something there that shouldn't have been.  
  
The Duke sat across from her, taking the hat from his head and placing it in his lap. Satine noticed that he was shaking a bit. Why would he be nervous? He finally spoke. "My dear, you are probably wondering why I wish to speak to you privately." Satine nodded, and the Duke continued, "Well, you know that this whole extravaganza is costing me a fantastic sum of money."  
  
"Oh yes, dear Duke, we are all so thankful, and so fortunate that someone like you-"  
  
The Duke held his hand up, signaling for her to stop. He shakily stroked the hat in his lap. "Mademoiselle Satine, I have the power to make you a star. But that is only if you . . ." He looked down, his face looking more like that of a rat's every moment that passed.  
  
"Yes, monsieur?" Satine said.  
  
"You will be mine, Satine," he snarled.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"DON'T think that I am naïve!" The Duke roared, shaking with rage. "I will have you, if you want this silly little show to be a reality for you- you bohemians!"  
  
Satine looked at him with disgust. Was he insane?  
  
She sat up straight, then shaking her head, said to him, "Dear duke, I must decline your-"  
  
"SILENCE!" he yelled shrilly. A scornful glower spread across his face. "You may go tell everyone out there that the show has been cancelled- and it's all your fault. Forget about becoming anything more than the worthless little thing you are. I was the only one generous enough to make this offer; I was your only hope. Go on, go!" he sneered, his face contorted with mingled fury and glee.  
  
Satine stared at him, her face stolid while thoughts swirled and twirled in her head like a merry-go-round. How she had dreamed of this day, when she would be given the offer of all of her dreams coming true! And yet, the only way was to sleep with this man. She was born to be center stage, and had never let go of that ambition. One thought stopped her.  
  
Christian . . .  
  
'Oh no, no you don't, Satine! You will never let a silly thing like ridiculous infatuation stop your dream!' Satine was a determined woman. Who said she even liked this . . . this writer? No, she would become an actress. That was final. She took a deep breath.  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
The Duke smiled a crooked, weasel-like smile. "Good. Now that we have an understanding, all you have to do is sign your name right.here," he said, pointing to a piece of paper triumphantly- her contract. It would bind her to him.  
  
She signed it.  
  
"Well, my dear, my work here is done. Here is my address," he said, holding up what seemed to be a business card, "Rehearsals start . . . oh, I don't know . . . this Friday, I suppose?" he said nonchalantly, "But I expect you to be at my residence tomorrow at 8 o'clock sharp for . . . dinner," he added, smiling wickedly, and handing her the card.  
  
"Yes, of course, dear Duke," Satine replied, giving him a forced smile as she pocketed the card. He left the room.  
  
Satine stayed in her seat, sitting quietly, her head swarming with a cacophony of troubled, urgent thoughts. How was this happening to her? The only way to live out her lifelong dream was to sleep with this wretched man . . . and she could forget about ever falling in love.  
  
'And about Christian,' a voice in her head said.  
  
"I don't love him," she whispered fiercely.  
  
'Oh, yes you do,' the voice cackled, 'and now you must choose between him and your dream. . .'  
  
"No!" she whispered, rubbing her temples. "No. I am going to do this. Nothing can stop me. Certainly not love . . . oh for god's sake, I'm not in love!" she whispered again, standing up and beginning the walk back to the stage and seats, where everyone was anxiously awaiting her arrival.  
  
"Satine! We wewe so wowwied!" exclaimed Toulouse as she came into view. "Well, what happened?" Satine smiled brightly.  
  
"He's going to do it." She said.  
  
"Oh, wondewful!" Toulouse cried, the others whooping for joy. He ran to throw his arms around Satine's legs. Backing away, he said suddenly,  
  
"No strings attached?"  
  
Satine shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"R-right. N-no strings attached."  
  
"Excellent!" growled the Argentinean.  
  
"This is wonderful!" cried Satie.  
  
They slowly began to leave the building, chattering happily the whole way.  
  
Right before she got to the door, Christian put his hand on Satine's arm. "Um . . . ah, Satine," he said, "I wanted to- to tell you s- something," he stammered. Toulouse looked back.  
  
"Awe you guys coming or what?"  
  
"That's okay, Toulouse," Satine said. "You go ahead. We'll meet you back at home later."  
  
"All right, then," he called back. Satine let the door close.  
  
And for the second time in two days, Christian and Satine were alone.  
  
"Well, what is it?" she said impatiently. She had a lot on her mind, and was not in a good mood as a result.  
  
"Well . . . I . . ."  
  
She softened immediately at the adorably embarrassed expression on his face. How could she resist?  
  
"Well," Christian started, uncomfortably shifting his feet, "I know that I have only known you for- for a day, but I h-have never had such a . . .a . . . c-connection with anyone in my life before. And when I met you . . ." he paused, staring at her eyes that seemed so far off.  
  
Satine's head and heart were in a fierce battle inside her mind. Her head was telling her to focus on her career, which was far more important than this silly boy, while her heart was telling her otherwise . . . to follow her instincts . . .  
  
Her heart was the louder voice.  
  
"No," she whispered.  
  
"S- s- sorry?" said Christian, the worry evident in his voice.  
  
Satine's head would not let her let go of her dream so quickly, and neither would she. Fame and fortune won. Her heart was silenced.  
  
"Christian, no. Don't do this. I am an actress. Fame and fortune is my destiny, and nothing must get in the way of that."  
  
Poor Christian was at a loss for words. Satine's heart silently wept for her folly.  
  
"What does that have to do with . . . with love?" Satine began to walk away slowly down the aisle of the theater, ignoring the unshed tears in her eyes.  
  
"A lot," she said quietly. "I can't fall in love with anyone," she announced, her voice becoming stronger as she turned to face him.  
  
"C- can't fall in love? But- a life without love, that's terrible!"  
  
"No, being on the street, that's terrible," she retorted. She had to keep this façade up.  
  
"No! Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"  
  
"Please, don't start that again."  
  
"All you need is love!"  
  
"A girl has got to eat . . ."  
  
"All you need is love!"  
  
"She'll end up on the street!"  
  
"All you need is love . . ."  
  
"Love is just a game . . ."  
  
If you are reading this, and you do not know the Elephant Love Medley, die. Now. No, we're just kidding. We'll skip to some good parts, okay? Sometimes, people's hands just don't hold up that long on the keyboard typing up song lyrics.  
  
"Just one night, give me just one night."  
  
"There's no way, 'cause you can't." Satine was stuck. Why oh why did she have to be an actress, and not a writer?! 'Umm . . .' she thought, 'stay, stray, play, lay, papier mache. . ." Her face was screwed up in concentration. 'There's no way 'cause you can't. . . pay? NO! I'm not a whore!" Finally, grinning triumphantly, she sang to Christian,  
  
"There's no way, 'cause there's no way!"  
  
Christian laughed.  
  
"In the name of love, one night in the name of love. . ."  
  
And so they sang the infamous Elephant Love Medley, that was not really infamous to them, since they were the ones making it up in the first place, and it's infamous to us because we ALL know the movie and soundtrack by heart (right?), and they were in 1899 when there were no such things as movies or CD's, and it's not really the "Elephant" Love Medley because they're in a theater, so it's more like a "Theater" Love Medley, and . . .yeah.  
  
Anyways.  
  
"We could be heroes!" Christian sang out, a few random lines from famous love songs later, "Just for one day."  
  
"You, you will be mean," Satine sang, making her way backstage, meandering around the curtains as she fled from Christian and her heart.  
  
"No I won't!"  
  
"And I. . ." she began, trailing off as she grew desperate for an excuse. Her heart was growing louder. . .  
  
"I'll drink all the time!" She ran up the stairs to stand on the stage, where she gazed out on the rows and rows of deserted seats.  
  
And then he said it. The one line that gave her heart even more power and made her freeze in her tracks.  
  
"We should be lovers!"  
  
Her breath caught in her throat.  
  
"We can't do that," she sang in a forced whisper. Her head's voice was quieter and weaker as it escaped her lips.  
  
"We should be lovers, and that's a fact," he sang confidently, a nervous smile spreading across his face as he made his way towards Satine's spot center stage.  
  
"Though nothing will keep us together. . . ."  
  
"We could steal time . . ."  
  
And then she knew that the fierce battle between her head and her heart had been won.  
  
"Just for one day," they sang out.  
  
And her heart was the victor.  
  
"We could be heroes, forever and ever . . . we could be heroes . . . forever and ever . . . we could be heroes . . ."  
  
Christian found himself standing inches from Satine. She was so close . . . so close . . .  
  
"Just because I will always love you . . ."  
  
"I can't help loving . . ."  
  
"You . . ."  
  
"How wonderful life is . . ."  
  
"Now you're in the world . . ."  
  
And then their lips met.  
  
Lost in their kiss, neither noticed the lone light in the darkness illuminating them and only them, a luminous glow in a world of black that was the theater.  
  
A spotlight.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
That was a fucking long chapter ('scuse my French. . . though we DO love French. . . .). Hope we didn't bore you to death. Anyways, THEY'RE FINALLY TOGETHER! FINALLY!!!!!  
  
Readers: Took you long enough!  
  
RougeChic: SORRY! So so so sorry, Jess wanted drama.  
  
DiamondDog: Drama IS more exciting than fluff.  
  
RougeChic: Oh, no you don't. . .  
  
DiamondDog: Oh yes, Anna, I DO. Too much fluff is a no-no.  
  
RougeChic: Oh REALLY? Well let's ask THEM! *points to Christian and Satine*  
  
Christian: Wha. . .? *is covered in lipstick like that one scene in the movie when. . . oh nevermind*  
  
DiamondDog: Let's not.  
  
RougeChic: Just review, kay? Kay.  
  
DiamondDog: Buh-bye!  
  
RougeChic: Au revoir!  
  
Oh, by the way, "Your Song" (as seen in Chapter 5) and "Nature Boy" (as seen in a bit of text in Chapter 4) the "Elephant Love Medley" plus all those other lovely songs within it, (as seen in Chapter 6) and the bits of script we, um, BORROWED from "Moulin Rouge!". . . we don't own them. So don't sue. Merci. 


	7. Chapter 7

WOW! Only a bit over 4 pages . . . our last ones have been what, like, 10 pages?  
  
Jessica: And who's fault is that?  
  
Anna: *looks around innocently* Who, me? Whatever are you talking about, darling?  
  
Jessica: Oh shut up. And don't call me that. That's degrading.  
  
Anna: Sorry darling.  
  
Jessica (whispering): All fluff is NOT on my account! It's all "darling" girl's fault.  
  
Anna: I HEARD that! And I like the word darling. I like it even better when Ewan says it. Dahling, dahling, dahling. . .  
  
Has anyone seen Baz's Romeo + Juliet? Oh my god it's wonderful. Baz has done it again. . . even though he made it before Moulin Rouge. Heh. Strictly Ballroom rocks too. What can I say? He's a genius.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
To the average passerby, the morning was calm, clear, and devoid of anything even remotely interesting other than the lark's chirp and the occasional bohemian with a hangover.  
  
To the emotionally in tune, it was anything but.  
  
The air hung thick with the scent of young love; new love; unconditional love; true love. An odd occurrence in the village of sin, making it all the more blatantly and beautifully obvious. Misty light shone in elegantly oblique rays through the syrupy fog, dew-laden grass glistening like thousands of tiny jewels.  
  
Love, dear reader, was in the air.  
  
And asleep in each others' arms was the epitome of it.  
  
Christian and Satine lay sleeping almost soundlessly, their breath in slow, easy, synchronized rhythm with one another. They lay side by side, Christian's arms wrapped tenderly around Satine's slim form. She lay with her head buried against his chest, her hands resting under her chin.  
  
Satine's eyes slowly fluttered open, and adjusting to the daylight she gasped.  
  
How in the world was the most handsome man to grace the earth sleeping next to her?  
  
And handsome he was.  
  
Christian was, indeed, adorable, with a small boyish smile playing on his lips. With each gentle exhale, his raven hair that was flopped innocently over his forehead would rustle. Satine ran her fingers softly through it, giggling quietly when his absent-minded smile spread even more. And his arms were wrapped around HER! It was perfect. . .  
  
Too perfect.  
  
And that was why fate chose that moment to make her remember.  
  
The Duke.  
  
Satine stiffened in Christian's arms, tears stinging her eyes as she realized that this, their love, in all its flawless beauty could never be. A love such as theirs was too beautiful to last, too perfect to remain, too sudden to linger on, too young and too innocent and too naïve. She sighed.  
  
Oh, if the world were a fairy tale. . .  
  
She tried to silently edge away out of his embrace, but with the sudden loss of contact, Christian woke.  
  
He smiled up at her.  
  
"My god, you're beautiful," he whispered.  
  
Satine reached out to cup Christian's cheek in her hand. But as she sighed wistfully, a strangled sob escaped her lips. It was then that Christian noticed the unshed tears shining in her eyes.  
  
"S-Satine?" Christian questioned, his brows furrowed in concern. She let out a shuddery breath, turning away from her so as to hide the tears she could hold back no longer.  
  
"Darling. . ." [A/N: Wheee. . . (see note at top)] Christian moved out of the bed and knelt on the floor facing her as he clasped her hands in his.  
  
"Satine, tell me what's wrong," he pleaded, reaching up to brush away the tears streaming down her face.  
  
"N-nothing. . . I have t-to go, Christian." Satine brushed past him hurriedly to retrieve her clothes from around the room.  
  
And then Satine's head and heart were at it again.  
  
'That's right, Satine, go. . . go and never turn back-'  
  
'No! How can you throw this away, Satine, how-'  
  
'He'll ruin your career, Satine-'  
  
'This is true love-'  
  
'He's worth nothing-'  
  
'He loves you-'  
  
"I SIGNED A CONTRACT!" she suddenly screamed.  
  
"Wha. . . what?"  
  
Satine calmed herself, and swiping harshly at her red-splotched face, she turned around with perfect and practiced poise.  
  
"I signed a contract with the Duke. I am bound to him and only him- that is the only way he will finance us. The Duke is our only chance."  
  
"What are you talking ab-"  
  
"Now that you know, I must go. I can't see you again, Christian. . . I just can't. I am sorry. I don't love you and I can't love you." And she turned around and began to dress, ignoring her heart's desperate wails.  
  
'No! Satine, no, no, no, what are you doing. . .'  
  
'He loves you, Satine, he loves you. . .'  
  
"I told you we should be lovers. I wasn't lying. This is real, Satine, it's real. You can't fight it." Christian suddenly said, passion effusing from his words.  
  
"Christian don't-"  
  
"It was meant to be! We're meant to be, Satine, it's supposed to be like this. It just feels so right. It does, you know it does. I don't care about the Duke, I don't care."  
  
Satine smiled weakly, not facing him. She knew perfectly well what he was talking about- of course it felt right.  
  
Nothing had ever felt so right in her entire life.  
  
"We'll. . . we'll find a way. We'll find a way, Satine, I promise. We can steal time, I'll do anything, we can do this. He can't stop us. P- please, Satine. D-don't leave me." Christian's voice was quivering.  
  
She sank to the floor.  
  
"Oh Christian. . ." she whispered, sobs wracking her body.  
  
"I didn't mean a word of it, I didn't, I didn't, I can't do this, I can't sleep with him, I just can't. . ."  
  
Christian ran to Satine, cradling her shaking body in her arms, holding her, caressing her, loving her.  
  
"Shh. . . shh, it's okay, it's okay. . ."  
  
"No it's not! C-Christian, I l-love you. . ."  
  
Christian's heart soared.  
  
"I love you Satine, and that's why we can do this. We can do this, we can."  
  
"Yes. . . yes we can. . ." she murmured before their lips met.  
  
She pulled away abruptly. "But I have to go now."  
  
"W-why?"  
  
"H-he's expecting me at 8 tonight."  
  
"And now it's 11 in the morning."  
  
"But. . ." she trailed off.  
  
What could she tell him? That if she stayed a moment longer she would never leave? Well, that was true. . .  
  
"Stay with me, Satine. Just stay."  
  
She smiled.  
  
How could she resist?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
10 hours later. . .  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A single man sat livid in his cold, hostile Parisian mansion, languishing as he had been for the past hour in his own jealous fury, glaring at the untouched supper set on his table. She hadn't come.  
  
If looks could kill . . .  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ah ha! So Christian knows! And the battle has begun. . .  
  
Life is good.  
  
Now all we need are some reviews. And a chocolate chip cookie.  
  
Or two. 


End file.
